


Checkmate Most Foul

by ShadowsOffense



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Chess, F/F, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2449364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA Getting Lucky(-er Than Most)</p>
<p>This one is headed into the mystery genre.  All you really need to know is that it’s Traynor centric featuring flirtation through chess.  There are a few, tiny AU elements where I changed some cannon things to fit the prompts; I know they are there and they’ll make sense as the story unfolds, promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who's There?

A sudden drop in the noise level caused Traynor to look up from her chess board, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. The observation deck was crowed with a large number of off duty personnel, there being very few other places for them to go, and the sudden hush was out of character, to say the least. Clustered around the card table Daniels, Donnelly, Gilbert, and Weitzman, moments ago a bit too far on the other side of drunk and rowdy, had gone utterly silent.

With a sense of dread, Traynor twisted in her seat and caught sight of Commander Shepard just inside the door. 

Traynor let out a small sound of relief. It was (she couldn’t really use the word ‘only’ or ‘merely’) their commanding officer; not battle alarms and boarding parties (everyone had heard the stories). Not that the more exuberant crew were wrong to be alarmed. The Commander was a big fan of the type of military discipline that involved toothbrushes, soap, and laps in the cargo bay. If she was really pissed, according to scuttlebutt anyway, the poor soul could expect to join her ground team in their training exercises. Which on one infamous occasion had meant hand to hand to headbutt sparring with a Krogan.

Shepard’s gaze swept over the room in return, the red inner glow of her cybernetic eyes just a shade off from her hair. They paused knowingly at the card table and, even from her seat by the window, Traynor could see the way Donnelly swallowed nervously. A predatory smile touched the Commander’s lips and it was Traynor’s own turn to swallow. The Commander could be scarier than Sergeant Barnardo, the NCO who’d been Traynor’s live ammo training instructor back in basic. At times Shepard exhibited a ruthlessness that was chilling, but she brought her people back alive. The ones that followed her into hell walked back out again and that was beyond what most could say.

You didn’t ask for more, not in this war.

Although, admittedly, Shepard’s intimidating combat history was hardly the only thing drying out Traynor’s mouth. The woman was gorgeous in a very intense kind of way. When it came to the Commander, Traynor often didn’t know if she was terrified or turned on. Neither did anyone else, at that, but it hardly mattered since Dr. T’Soni...

...was not the asari following the Commander into the room. Traynor’s line of sight dipped briefly to the not so decent neckline, if it could still even be termed that, of otherwise protectively concealing gold and crimson armor.

“Samantha?” EDI cut in, sounding just a little annoyed.

“Sorry EDI,” Traynor smiled apologetically, looking away from the Justicar (a warrior of _legend_ hitching a ride with them back to the Citadel) and back down at the chess board. “Where were we?”

“Knight to b6.”

“Right,” Traynor used a finger to slide the knight on her omnitool, the holographic board obligingly changing its display to match. Not nearly as satisfying as physical pieces, but it wasn’t like they were playing a real game anyway.

“A question, if I may?” EDI asked as she moved ‘her’ pawn to g3. Traynor nodded encouragingly; that was why they were reenacting this game after all. “If Topalov had declined the rook sacrifice, there are numerous ways he could have forced this game into a draw. He, essentially, made a mistake. Therefore I must wonder why this is considered Kasparov’s ‘Immortal’ Game given that his victory was dependent upon his opponent’s error?”

“Jumping ahead are we?” Traynor couldn’t resist teasing before she answered. “Because you can’t win a game if your opponent plays perfectly. All you get are endless draws; a problem with which we are rather familiar if you’ll recall why we stopped playing against each other in the first place,” She grinned, not unduly proud of the fact that she had actually managed to consistently force a combat A.I., someone who was _designed_ for that type of analysis, into stalemate. It made her losses to Matriarch Polgara in Kepesh-Yakshi a little easier to bear. But just a little. 

“Kasparov’s genius,” Traynor continued. “Came from his decision to offer his opponent a rich enough prize that it lured him into an error.” Something that, admittedly, would never work against EDI. “To avoid a stalemate, he took a risk, putting himself at a perceived disadvantage in hopes of securing a victory.”

“In other words,” EDI sounded thoughtful. “To win he risked loosing.”

“Precisely.”

“An interesting interpretation,” smooth tones cut into their conversation. Traynor’s jump was embarrassingly noticeable and she flushed as she looked up. Then kept going to meet the Justicar’s face, thankfully able to avoid staring at her cleavage this time.

“You play chess?” Traynor asked after a beat, only slightly incredulous. Most asari really didn’t bother with the human game. Rather emphatically refused to bother in some snobbish cases.

“I have learned a little over the years. My daughter was fascinated with the game.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Traynor offered automatically, the words hardly adequate. She’d been monitoring the comms during the monastery mission and couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to loose a child. Much less in that manner.

“Rila has made me very proud, she took many of the enemy with her,” a sad smile touched the Justicar’s lips, but it dissolved quickly. “However, I was speaking of Mirala, my eldest. She chose a... different path than her sisters and we had stopped being mother and daughter to one another long before she passed. Falere is the only family I have left. I wish I could have persuaded her to leave that ruined place with me, but it is my hope that she will change her mind and make use of the ship I left her. Survival there will not be easy. You will forgive me if I do not wish to say more.”

“Of course,” Traynor was touched the Justicar was willing to say even that much to her, a near stranger.

“Samara,” the Commander was suddenly looming over the table. “Having fun?” Was there a harder edge to Shepard’s voice than normal? 

Abruptly realizing that she had leaned sympathetically towards the asari, Traynor jerked rigidly upright, coming to attention as much as possible while still remaining seated.

“A discussion of chess,” the Justicar responded blandly. “It is rare that I am given the opportunity as there are few players in asari space. At least, players of any skill. But perhaps it is time that I continue with my tour?”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Shepard’s eyes flicked quickly to Traynor, still frozen in her chair, before moving back to the Justicar. “We’ll see if we can find somewhere out of the way for you. I know how you like your solitude.”

With that, never even addressing Traynor or EDI, Shepard turned on her heel and headed for the door. Samara, the Justicar, hesitated only for a moment more before following. Her parting, “It has been a pleasure Specialist,” sent an inexplicable tingle down Traynor’s spine.

_What the hell was that?_

“It is your move,” EDI dragged Traynor’s attention back again, stopping her from watching the other two women depart.

“Right,” Traynor flushed. “Um?”

“King, b8.” If EDI had needed to breathe, Traynor got the distinct impression she would have sighed. She didn’t seem irritated though. Since EDI wasn’t deliberately emoting, it was nearly impossible to tell what exactly the A.I.’s reaction actually was to... whatever it was that had just occurred. But, if anything, Traynor couldn’t shake the feeling that EDI sounded... _off._


	2. 'By And By' Is Easily Said

“Salt, salt,” Traynor muttered to herself nearly an hour later, looking through the food lockers with increasing frustration. “Now, if I were salt where would I be?”

“Ah, sorry. I’ve got it over here.” 

The man, impressive even seated at the table, was nearly a mountain of muscle. And if that hadn’t been enough of a hint, Traynor recognized his voice from the comms: _Where are you guys, my grandma leaves her ass less exposed than this! I don’t give a damn about your grandma Vega, if you don’t get **your** ass up on the catwalk and give Shepard some covering fire I’ll take a shot at you myself...._ “Vega, right?”

“Yeah,” he retrieved the missing shaker from where it had been concealed behind his glass and held it out in her direction. “But no need to be that formal, Suertaza. You can call me Jimmy, if you like.”

“Suertaza?” she asked as she walked over and took the salt from him.

“It means a lucky break. Nicknames are kind of my thing.” He smiled and she frowned, uncertain if he was hitting on her or not. If it was a line, it was a terrible line, presumptive in all the wrong ways.

“And what makes you think I’m going to be your lucky break?” she asked, not entirely able to keep the acid from her tone as she took the salt back over to the heating unit.

“No, no,” he held up his hands. “I meant getting off Earth. You decide to put in a little overtime, so you’re on the ship when... a lucky break.” 

_Oh._ Traynor’s frown melted. _Yes, lucky._ She didn’t want to think about it, actually.

“Besides,” he continued. “I heard you were family or whatever you guys call it.”

Traynor blinked. “Us guys? Are you... family?” That wasn’t really a term used outside the gay community, dating back to the days husbands or wives had had to refer to each other as siblings or cousins or the like to be allowed visitation rights, shared accommodations, ect. Family.

“Nah,” he took a bite of whatever he was eating. “Don’t get me wrong, Estaban, that’s Cortez, has some nice qualities, but I’ve never been tempted to take a swing on the other side of the fence. What about you though? I’m guessing gold star, like Lola. So same boat as me, really.”

_Lola?_ “Oh my god, you mean the Commander? _She’s_ Lola!?” Things Traynor had overheard suddenly became clear. “How the hell did you manage to get _Commander Shepard_ to let you call her _that_ without her court marshaling you?” _Or spacing him._

“Just asked her. She’s not that tough.” Traynor raised an eyebrow and he amended, “Ok, maybe she is that tough. But Lola’s got a big soft spot for her crew. You ever heard her talk about the squad she lost on Akuze?”

Food salted, Traynor shook her head, taking her tray to join Ve- _Jimmy_ at his table.

“She still remembers all their names. Little quirks, dreams.” He paused for another bite of food before continuing. “She’s the same way with the crew she lost from the first Normandy. Has a drink with the Doc once a year in their memory. And she socked me good,” he laughed, but rubbed at his jaw with one hand as if still shaking off the hit. “Nearly knocked a tooth out when I got on her case about leaving Earth. Hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was worse for her, leaving her old CO behind. There’s not a damn thing Lola wouldn’t do to keep her people alive, you just don’t want to be on the other side when she’s drawing battle lines.”

“Indeed.” Smooth tones interrupted them as the Justicar suddenly stepped around from behind the lift’s dividing bulkhead. “She is a most formidable warrior. Even with centuries of experience, I would be hesitant to draw her wrath; it would take a truly significant prize to incur such a risk. Unless the Code demanded it, of course.”

_Shit. She’s quiet enough to need a bell!_ Traynor’s heart thudded once before settling back down.

“Damn, where did you come from?” Vega asked as the asari warrior made her own way over to the kitchenette, echoing Traynor’s surprise at what was apparently the Justicar’s normal, eerily stealthy, ways. 

“Shepard has allowed me to make use of the life support room during our voyage, but I found myself growing hungry and I must admit that the prospect of company was not unappealing. In my rush to get to the monastery, it has been some time since I truly indulged in either.” 

“You’d be more than welcome to join us,” Traynor invited. “Actually, I’m curious about what you were going to say about Kasparov vs. Topalov? Originally, I mean.”

“Who verses what now?” Vega asked.

“A famous game of chess,” Samara explained, bending to look in a cabinet, rifling through it in a way that was too graceful to be called rummaging. “From before your species discovered the mass relays.” She switched her attention to Traynor, suddenly making the specialist hyper aware of how her jaw moved as she chewed. Not that Traynor’s table manners where anything to be shamed of. Or that Justicar Samara was actually watching her that closely. 

“I had simply intended to point out that the lasting infamy of the game might have had more to do with Topalov’s resignation than the details of the game itself,” Samara continued. She sounded so elegant as she spoke, her voice rich despite the measured pacing of her words, and a pleasure to listen to. The fact that she was talking about chess made it even better. “The loser believed himself to be in the superior position, right up until the moment the trap had been sprung around him. It was like Topalov looked into his opponent’s eyes, realized he was about to die, and surrendered to that knowledge rather than keep fighting. Kasparov’s victory was absolute, dominating his opponent mentally, a feat far beyond physically achieving a superior position on the board. At least, it was that aspect of the game that I found to be the most fascinating.”

“And do _you_ often enjoy dominating your opponents?” the words slipped out before Traynor could stop them and she flushed at her own innuendo.

“Perhaps it is they who dominate me.” The Justicar finally retrieved something that looked like an insta-heat package and straightened back up to her full height, turning to face Traynor squarely. Had her eyes always been that icy shade of blue, pale enough to nearly shine with reflected light? “You will have to play me should you wish to determine the answer.”

_Holy shit._ Traynor sucked in a shocked breath. That sounded like an invitation to more than chess.

“Suertaza,” Vega muttered low enough that it was clear he hadn’t intended to be heard. “You have a damn horseshoe up your ass or something?”

“Perhaps another time,” EDI spoke before Traynor could, the A.I.’s voice suddenly emerging from the comm system. “I require Specialist Traynor’s aid in analyzing a coded signal I have just received.” As the pause went on a little too long, EDI added, “It is urgent.” 

_Oh, bloody hell, damn it!_ Traynor gave Samara a sick smile, fighting the urge to bash her head against the nearest surface. Some days her job sucked (the way a regular person’s job could suck, not in the terrifying way that underlined how _important_ it was). And there was nothing like having an omnipresent best friend of a boss. Second boss. After Shepard.

“I guess I had better go give EDI a hand,” Traynor said, her voice as full of regret as she could make it. “But I’d love to play with you. Against you. In chess.” She was flushing so hard her face burned as she struggled to talk around the boot she’d shoved in her mouth. “Maybe a rain check?” she tacked on hopefully. Her luck had change from fantastically good to abhorrently awful in the blink of an eye. Somewhere, the laws of probability were curled into a corner, crying. 

Traynor wished she could join them.

The Justicar nodded once, not looking the least bit irritated, and Traynor wondered if she had misunderstood the nature of the offer. “You know where to find me,” the asari told her. Just as Traynor had almost lost all hope, a slight smile lifted the corners of the Justicar’s mouth. “I look forward to seeing if your skill matches my own,” she added in a low voice.

Denied the outlet of a scream of frustration, Traynor exchanged the remains of her meal for her one of the biotics’ energy bars and headed for the CIC. The sooner she was done...

Well, even if Traynor was wrong and it was, at worst, just pre-competition banter, a _fantastic_ game of chess awaited her. _And if not,_ Traynor smiled. If not, it had been some time since she’d had the chance to beat the pants off of anybody but herself.


	3. The play's the thing wherein one catches a king

“EDI, for the last time, no. I do not think that there is an embedded code. We’ve looked at this thing six ways from Wednesday, and there is nothing special about the fluctuations. It’s static. Plain, simple, normal _static_.”

“While I agree that that is the most likely explanation, the Reapers are a highly advanced enemy. If there is even the slightest chance that they have discovered our transmissions about the Crucible-” 

“We have to check it out. Which we _have._ ” Traynor ran a hand through her hair. “And we’ve found absolutely nothing to say that this static is any different than the exact same static that has accompanied every other transmission from the project.” Static which, while they had certainly double checked it, hadn’t cause EDI to be nearly so insistent, concerned, or down right _anal_ about the tests. “If you want to rerun some of the diagnostics on your own, _again_ , by all means feel free. But we’ve done everything that you could possibly need my help to do and we only have a little over three hours until we arrive at the Citadel. I’m going off duty. No arguments.”

“Samantha,” this time EDI sounded distinctly apologetic. “It was not my intent to antagonize you.”

“I know EDI,” Traynor smiled despite herself. She understood about wanting to be helpful, needing to do more, as well as the paranoia that was starting to gnaw at them all. EDI just had truly awful timing. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Would you like to discuss your plans for shore leave?” EDI asked, an attempt at what Traynor knew was meant to be taken as a peace offering. Still, EDI would have been hard pressed to do a better job if she had been deliberately trying to stall Traynor.

“No, thank you EDI. We can take some time to talk later, I’m not mad at you,” With the A.I., sometimes it was safer to spell out her emotional reactions than risk seeing what conclusions EDI would draw on her own. “But I am going to be otherwise occupied for the next three hours. Just consider me out of comm range until further notice.”

“All right. Logging you out Traynor.” Although EDI still sounded distinctly reluctant, Traynor did not let that slow her down. She’d take time later to reassure the A.I. that their friendship was intact, but right then all she could think about was blue eyes on the other side of a chess board. And, maybe, blue skin and the low cut of that red armor. 

For starters.

Fifteen minutes later, after a brief stop at the refresher and her locker, Traynor stood in front of Life Support in a fresh pair of fatigues with her chess board tucked under one arm.

The door opened and, just as Traynor knew that the room was a touch hotter than the rest of the ship, she also knew that that was not the reason why she felt warmer.

“Specialist,” the Justicar smiled. “I am glad you came.”

“Call me Samantha, please.” Traynor stepped inside, brushing a little closer to the asari than she need to. Samara did not move to put more space between them.

“Samantha,” the Justicar agreed. “There is a table further in that I believe would be appropriate.” 

Via a hand rested on Traynor’s elbow, Samara used the lightest of touches to guide them forward. The Justicar waited until they were both seated before she spoke again. 

“I would invite you to call me Teom,” she said as Traynor placed the chess board between them. “Once asari reach a certain age, we tend to stop using our family names. It is a sign that our reputations are great enough that first name, alone, will suffice for identification. But,” some of the stiltedness slipped out of the Justicar’s voice, changing the tonality slightly. It became warmer and more intimate, although there was something else in it as well. “With you, I do not believe I have need for such vanity. Teom is an address I miss having lost and I would like you to use it.”

“Teom,” Traynor liked the way that sounded. “I’d be honored.” She had actually wondered why Dr. T’Soni was the only asari that seemed to go by her last name. Given that she was _centuries_ younger than any other asari Traynor had met made it suddenly make sense. Although, from a human-culture stand point, it felt a little odd to be invited to use someone’s last name as if it were a childhood nickname. Abruptly, Traynor smiled. _Oh! The next time I meet Matriach Polgara T’Suzsa, I am **so** calling her by her last name!_

Shaking herself out of her sudden, rather petty, revenge fantasy, Traynor keyed the chess board for a new game. “Did you want to be black or white?” she asked Teom.

“Black.”

“Confident. I like it.” Traynor activated the holographic display accordingly and, after a moment’s consideration, she went with a king’s pawn opening.

The next few moves they made in silence, but it was not an empty one. Traynor could feel the Justicar watching her, and not merely as if she were weighing an opponent. The slight smile on Teom’s lips and the way her eyes lingered were good signs that she liked what she saw. 

Traynor let her own appreciation become a little bolder in turn. She openly stared at the Justicar as Teom moved her piece via her omnitool. Moving away from the safety of watching graceful hands and arms, Traynor’s eyes trailed across Teom’s shoulders and down the deep v, admiring the contrast between blue skin and red armor before looking up to meaningfully lock gazes with the Justicar. Only then did she glance down at the board to see how the game had changed.

Not the Traynor was about to let herself be distracted and outmaneuvered, however. Her memory of the Justicar’s voice bounced around inside her head even as the asari leaned back in her chair, casually putting the curves of her body on better display. 

There was simply no way Traynor was going to let herself lose this game. 

So... she’d better focus. Traynor took her time leaning forward to study the board, making her own play at distraction as she brushed her hair back behind her ears slowly, evenly, knowing asari liked symmetry and flexibility in the crest equivalent. Traynor’s previous move, knight to c3, rather than, say, pawn to c4, had stopped Teom from (possibly) setting up a King’s Indian Defense, but the Justicar had responded by moving her pawn to d6. Not d5. That was interesting; she was still letting Traynor have the center of the board. Traynor moved her pawn to e4, the spot the Justicar had left available, and was unsurprised when the black bishop moved to g7.

Teom was, apparently, going with a Pirc defense now. With Pirc, as she would have been with the King’s Indian, she was allowing Traynor to start constructing a dominate center, likely with the intention of subverting it later. The Justicar was probably expecting an Australian, kingside, attack and would then try to turn the tables, playing against the dark squares and the weaknesses inherent in a central advance. Which would be difficult to defeat. Actually, if Traynor had failed to spot it, it would have been a sudden, harsh change of power when the Justicar began making her move. However, as it was, it would mean a long, bloody, trying game and likely eventual stalemate. _If_ Traynor went with the Australian attack. Or any central advance, really, which is what it looked like she was setting up for.

Another option was a 150 attack. A little easier to defeat, it was true (goodness knew she’d never try it against EDI) but the 150 was seldom used in the upper levels of play so her chances of taking her opponent by surprise were good. Traynor only knew that attack as well as she did because it was very popular in England, and therefore Oxford, for historical reasons, even named after how the English schools’ grading system used to be scored. Also, it changed a central attack to an edge with little to no warning. Using it would mean she’d be pretending to fall for the Justicar’s trap before springing her own.

To win, she’d risk loosing and winning would be so very worth the risk. Traynor would have to remember to tell EDI about the actual game play portion of the evening, should things work out on the board.

“So, aside from chess, how do you like to spend your free time?” Traynor asked, partially to distract _herself_ , as she moved before she could second guess her strategy. Bishop b3.

“A Justicar’s life does not lend itself to hobbies.” Teom looked a little annoyed with herself at that answer. “I studied dueling when I was younger, however, and I enjoy listening to sensory bands. When I am not meditating.”

“Sensory bands? They’re based off a hanar concept, right? Using vibration as much as sound. Music that can actually touch you.”

“You are familiar with them?” Teom looked surprised and pleased, her face softened and Traynor’s breathing hitched. _Gorgeous._

“I’ve listened to a few recordings,” Traynor hoped her lack of first hand experience wouldn’t disappoint. “But I never had the chance to actually go to a concert, which kind of misses the point. You can’t reproduce those effects, not really. But I suppose you’ve had to make do with recordings too, for the most part.”

“True. But over the past century, I have made it to concerts on occasion. Recordings just can’t hold a candle to it.” Teom leaned forward, her expression shifting, intense and magnetic as she shared something that was very obviously a passion. “Something about the feel of a concert, unlit black and glowing neon, the press of a crowd, heat and skin and feeling the whole room breath with you as those dark rhythms wash over you. You can’t tell if it’s a caress or something else entirely and the lyrics work their way into your head... ” the Justicar seemed to catch herself. “It is a truly moving experience,” she concluded in something closer to her normal tone. “You should make the time to experience it, to truly appreciate it.”

“I’ll have to. Someday. When all of this is over,” Traynor bit her lip. “Are you going back to the fighting soon?”

“Do not worry for me, I am practiced at survival.” Teom captured Traynor’s bishop as she spoke, making Traynor wonder at the coincidence in the juxtaposition of the asari’s move and her words. _Did she do that on purpose?_ “My Order will, no doubt, serve on the front lines, seeking out places where the fighting is thickest or civilians are in the most danger. And I am no more suited to a life of peace, _safety,_ ” the last word twisted into something almost ugly as it passed the Justicar’s lips, but with undertones of wistfulness. “Than they. Shepard, however, has requested my aid in a related matter and, as I am indebted to her, it must take precedence. I find I am looking forward to it; it is a task most suited to my nature.”

“Oh?” Traynor took Teom’s bishop in return. That sacrifice was the move she’d been hoping for. _So here's hoping it wasn’t supposed to make a point about her survival instincts!_

“I know how people run and how they hide and I am skilled at hunting those who consider themselves hunters,” the Justicar elaborated rather willingly. “Thane was an intriguing individual and Shepard has asked I pursue the one responsible for his death. The task is worthy and it will be interesting to see the type of man capable of bringing Krios down. But this hardly makes for pleasant conversation.”

“I’m getting used to it,” Traynor replied. Truthfully it was a little unnerving, but what on _the Normandy_ wasn’t? It was actually a little odd how it _didn’t_ bother her, doing next to nothing to diminish the pull she felt towards the mouthwateringly gorgeous woman, woman-shaped person, on the other side of the table. Or maybe that wasn’t so odd, then. Traynor moved her pawn, continuing to press the Justicar’s queen.

They fell silent as Teom studied the board. Eventually she pulled back to g7, but continued to quietly contemplate the game as Traynor advanced to g5, threatening her knight. 

Again, Teom withdrew. She started to develop the other side of the board now, but it was a little too late. Traynor sacrificed a pawn for position and they exchanged their remaining bishops. Teom’s face had gone utterly blank, but she wasn’t frowning, merely watching carefully. When Traynor declined a Queen exchanged, leaving the Justicar with no option but to retreat again, Teom hesitated over her omnitool before turning it off.

“You are a true artist, Samantha; I concede your victory.” The pause went on a moment too long. “On the chess board.”

Swallowing, Traynor heard herself ask, “And how about off the chess board?”

Now Teom smiled, the expression sending a shiver of excitement down Traynor’s spine. The asari leaned forward across the table and Traynor’s heart started to pound, but Teom spoke before they could meet in the kiss Traynor had been sure was coming.

“There is hardly privacy here,” the Justicar whispered, twisting aside at the last minute so her mouth brushed the edge of Traynor’s ear. “Perhaps you could join me on the Citadel before our paths must part?”

Traynor swallowed. “I’d like that,” she whispered, even as she groaned internally about even more waiting. Abstractly, she knew they were in a room that anyone could walk into and the Justicar had a very good point, but she was having a surprising amount of difficulty caring. 

She took one breath and then another before she mustered the strength of will to pull back. “Right, ok.” She looked out the window to avoid looking into the blue eyes that seemed to draw her in and took another cleansing breath. “So,” she smiled awkwardly. “I guess I’ll see you there then?”

“You shall.” Traynor shivered at the promise.

Thankfully, the Justicar took pity on her and stood first. Neatly, she folded the board and proffered it to Traynor. Traynor got to her own feet and accepted the board with a more genuine smile. Silently the Teom accompanied her to the door which, being a public room, opened in anticipation of their approach.

They were saved from awkward goodbyes/see-you-soons by the very real, very solid presence of Commander Shepard leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed. It would have been less startling if someone had thrown a glass of water in Traynor’s face.

“Commander?” she faltered, wide eyed. At her side, even Teom seemed momentarily shaken by Shepard’s sudden appearance.

“ _Samara._ ” Shepard ignored Traynor, pinning the Justicar with a look. “There you are. Did you forget we were expecting you in the CIC to go over the Cerberus intel before we dock?” Shepard sounded jovial, but her body was tense. Then the Commander voice dropped a hair, sounding abruptly as threatening as her posture. “Got a little caught up in chess again, did you?”

Traynor swallowed hard. There were some things you did not do and making Shepard wait was one of them. And since Shepard hadn’t entered... Teom, Justicar Samara, had been handed a shovel and used it to dig. Traynor glanced away unable to met her commander’s eyes and only then noticed EDI, her actual mech body, also waiting in the hall. _Bloody hell._

Samara stood stiffly, and Traynor recognized someone gathering their dignity when she saw it. “Of course Commander.”

The Justicar moved to head out the door, but Shepard slightly, subtly blocked her path, although it was more like she didn’t move out of the way. “EDI and I will escort you. To make sure you don’t get lost.” Shepard’s tone was actually icy now and she pointedly waited for Samara’s nod before she stepped out of the Justicar’s path.

Blue eyes met hers once and then the three of them were headed away. Traynor stared at their backs and then stepped back into the Life Support room. “EDI?” she whispered urgently.

“Yes Samantha?” EDI responded promptly from the comms.

“You’ll tell the Commander I’m sorry? I didn’t know we were keeping her waiting.” 

“I do not believe apologies are necessary on your part.”

Traynor swallowed. “She’ll go easy on Te- Justicar Samara, right?

EDI hesitated perhaps a moment too long. “I believe she will be fair.” The AI said at last. “But I am afraid I must inform you that the shore leave you were looking forward to has been cancelled and our departure time moved up to as soon as we are done with refuel.”

Traynor was torn between cursing her ill-fortune and blessing it for so light a punishment. Her training took over instead. Shoulders back, eyes forward, she responded “Understood.”

* * *

With the crew confined to the ship, the asari Justicar made her way to debark the Normandy alone. She paused before stepping onto the Citadel.

“EDI?”

“Yes Morinth?”

“Well played.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _One may smile and smile and be a villain._
> 
>  
> 
> Traynor-Morinth game was based off of Spraggett vs Gonzalez Amaya


End file.
